The Other Wife
by E. Marie
Summary: Kagome, a young woman without ties to the living; Inuyasha, a widower with a haunting past; lemon-esque chapter, sorry for the repost, please read and review!
1. Prologue and Chapter One

The Other Wife  
By E. Marie E-mail: Emw712@aol.com Rating: R in later, currently unwritten chapters Type: Inuyasha/Kagome pairing Point-of-view: Kagome  
  
Author's Note: May 29, 2003-What you are about to read has been stewing inside my mind for the past three months. If I had the time and an amazing attention span, I could sit down at this very moment and write this entire fanfic for you...but I have neither, and time is always a fleeting commodity. Know, dear readers, that the ending of this story is predetermined, but your reviews inspire me to complete my work. Basically, if you want to see an ending-REVIEW! If you hate it-tell me! If you love it-tell me! Otherwise, I'll assume no one cares if I finish this or not...  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the rights to any works pertaining Inuyasha, nor am I receiving any reward, beyond personal satisfaction, from the creation of this series of short stories, (i.e. don't sue me!) Enjoy!  
  
June 9, 2003: THE INSPIRATION FROM THESE FIRST FEW CHAPTERS I DREW FROM "REBECCA" BY DAPHNE DUMAURIER. I DO NOT INTEND TO FLAGRANTLY COPY HER WORK; I WOULD LIKE FOR THE MANY PARALLELS BETWEEN THE CHARACTERS OF THE MANGA AND DUMAURIER'S NOVEL TO BE RECOGNIZED AT LAST. "REBECCA" IS BUT A SPRING BOARD FOR MY IDEAS; IN APPROXIMATELY CHAPTER TEN OF AN ESTIMATED TWENTY, THE WORK BECOMES COMPLETELY MY OWN, WITH THE AID OF THE CHARACTERS OF "INUYASHA".  
  
Prologue: The Wind in the Ruins  
  
In the moonlight, I climb alone the overgrown road that once led to one of the greatest treasures of this island province. As I reach the top of a hill, the silver light plays tricks on my tear-filled eyes, and I imagine for a moment that I see a light shining from one of the windows of the north wing, from the room that should have been the nursery for our children. A cloud passes over the face of the moon, and my fantasy fades at the reality of the charred ruins before me. Where only blackened stones and fallen pillars remain, there was once a great dwelling that housed the width and depth of all the emotions felt by many generations of his great family. As the wind bites sharply at my thin frame, I shudder and recall the means by which this impressive house was brought to ashes, the evil that eats away at the root of every soul that submerges itself in darkness..  
As the wind brutalizes my body once more, I think to myself, 'How ironic.the wind is what set this all into motion.'  
  
Chapter 1: Meeting on the Crag by the Sea  
The first time I saw him, I was transfixed by his beauty. He stood many meters above me, at the apex of the sea cliffs, watching the sun set into the ocean in licking flames of red. As the wind rippled about his lean, muscular form, I was stunned by the sheer beauty of his long, silver hair, flowing gloriously down his back. The red hues of the sunset and the effects of the sea breeze made his well-tailored white suit seem, for a moment, like the crimson ensemble of a feudal warrior prince. Even though I was some distance away, I knew in my heart that his eyes were amber.  
He took another step closer to the edge of the cliff, peering for but a moment down to the deadly rocks below. Stretching his arms to the horizon, he closed his eyes and grew tense, so ready to end it all. I made an inaudible cry of horror, and , grabbing my bow and arrows, I stumbled hurriedly up the crag. When I was close enough to smell his earthy, masculine scent, mingled so intimately in the sea, I spoke the first words to the man who would be my destiny:  
"Don't do it, sir!" I cried out, tears streaming down my face. "Please, step back."  
Startled, he turned those eyes, (oh, yes, they were amber) on my face.and held my gaze for a long time, with an air of dismay, sadness, and a great familiarity, as if he had known me for my entire young life. Closer to him than before, I could see now that this beautiful creature was about a decade my senior and would never appear a second my elder if not for the great burden that drove him here.  
Distracted by my thoughts, I had not noticed that he had moved away from the edge of the treacherous crag; his magnificent face now hovered but inches over mine. Our gaze had never broken. Swallowing hard, I could feel the last of my tears rolling down my face. He traced the path of that last tear with his left hand, and as the wind howled about us, he kissed my hand and disappeared quickly down the path toward town.  
I am not sure how long I stood there, watching that man grow smaller by the distance between us. It was almost as though the image of him walking away was burned into my retina, and I swear I could see him long after he had vanished over the horizon. I felt a strange connection to this complete stranger, a deep instantaneous bond that I had only felt once before in my life...as a child, when I saw my grandfather for the first time and was swept with a feeling of mutual despair. My body began to shake, and I realized that, in my foolishness, I had stood on that cliff by the sea far beyond the sunset, and my thin summer dress was being flailed by the coastal winds. Darkness had seized the land and my spirits. Realizing that I could never gather the last of my arrows in the dusk, I collected what I had and followed the path of that wonderful stranger, going to my mistress to be berated for losing more arrows through a "lack of skill and horse sense." 


	2. Chapter Two

"The Other Wife" by: E. Marie E-mail: Emw712@aol.com  
  
Author's Note: May 29, 2003: For those who reviewed this story before I updated and performed a brief rewrite-I owe you my thanks. For you free- loaders enjoying a better written chapter without making a review...grrrrr....You know what you're supposed to do! REVIEW!  
  
DISCLAIMER: By the by, I do not own Inuyasha in any form, so, no matter how much you want to sue me, all you'll get will be a stick of gum and this story.  
  
Chapter 2: The Girl with the Crimson Face  
I coughed as poisonous bits of cigar smoke tarnished my lungs. No matter how much I protested, the Lady Yura, my "benevolent" employer, insisted upon smoking the hideous creations.while smoke billowed out of her gaping mouth, straight into mine. With a sigh, I tried to refocus on the needlework in front of me. Admittedly, my line of work was not glamorous. I had been a hired companion to the rude and affluent for the last year, since the death of my grandfather, my sole guardian. The day of his wake, in her famous, tactless fashion, the good lady offered me a rather adequate stipend to follow her on her "globe trots" and listen to her complain about the weather on three different continents. Since that time, I came to my majority and could easily break my ties with her, but there was no one else in the world for me except that bitter, old dragon-a thought that oppressed my spirits daily.  
My eyes watered, and I convulsed with another fit of coughing . Lady Yura curled her lower lip into a fixed sneer and set a glare upon my rocking frame-in her opinion, any involuntary action was very unladylike.  
"There is no need to continue in your vulgar protests of my relishing this wonderful cigar. You have been a very bad girl indeed, losing those golden tipped arrows I bought you, and you will appreciate the cultural varnish of my cigar until you become a better lady", claimed the lady, as she blew another plume of smoke out the side of her mouth. No matter her mood, which oscillated between disgust and arrogance, she never lost that set sneer, her trademark of dissatisfaction with me and, as I learned from my time in her service, an empty soul.  
Soulless or not, the Lady Yura and the members of her class certainly lived in surroundings that made it quite easy to forget any bitterness or disappointment. The hotel where we were staying, the "belle riveau" of Monte Carlo, made every space a spectacular sight. The splendor of the opening lobby could take your breath away-the gilded chandeliers, the sterling revolving doors...the leather lounge on which I sat at that moment probably cost more than a poor travelling companion like I made in a year.  
"Where is that waiter?", cried out my mistress, drawing looks from the more refined guests in the lobby. " I requested tea with lemon a clear five minutes ago, and I have yet to be answered. There is nothing more bourgeois than a young woman without an appreciation for a classy cigar and an impotent waiter."  
Trying valiantly to hide my laughter at hearing milady accuse our waiter of a lack of sexual appetite instead of impertinence, I feigned another cough and began to search through my bag for my needlepoint. Though I certainly had no talent for domestic crafts, having been raised by my grandfather, an aging artist, I wanted more than anything to distance myself from the embarrassing ravings of my mistress, whose loud, tasteless remarks were drawing the usual negative attention from the other guests in the lobby.  
Pulling forth my cloth and needle and righting myself once more, something shimmered in the corner of my sight and drew my attention. For a moment, I thought that silver gleam was just the flash of the revolving door, but in an instant, my heart leaped into my throat and stopped beating altogether as I saw the true source of that remarkable silver radiance.  
Like a fairy tale creature or some specter from beyond the grave, he was surrounded in an ethereal aura, a glow that seemed to resonate from his very being. His silver hair gleamed in contrast to that remarkable white suit, and as he stood for a moment at the threshold of the lobby, straightening his countenance and surveying the room, he still reminded me of a feudal lord, looking over his lands. From my vantagepoint, I was hidden from his vision, but peering around the Lady Yura, I could see clearly his eyes, the distant fixed glance and the hidden sadness.  
Without warning, his head snapped in my direction, his amber eyes boring into my very soul, making me gasp out loud. As my face began to burn crimson from the shame of my unrestrained study of him and the memory of our last meeting, I was entirely unprepared for what was about to follow.  
Noticing my sudden trance and discovering the cause, the Lady Yura seized upon the opportunity to further exhibit her presence to the entire unwitting audience of the lobby guests. Stabbing her cigar violently into the nearest ashtray, she twisted her plump body around in her chair and bellowed, "Inuyasha! How nice to see you've returned to Monte Carlo!"  
His eyes twitched in disgust, and I saw the reluctance in his eyes to shift his attention from me to the hollering fool across from me. The Lady Yura continued in her loud requests, her attempts to lure him into conversation, and to either spare the others in the lobby or to end the mutual embarrassment, Inuyasha made his way to milady's side.  
'Inuyasha'. The name rang inside my head, vaguely familiar, like an indistinguishable fragrance from a pleasant memory. As he made his way unhurriedly across the foyer, my eyes widened as I remembered who this man was. In one of her many external monologues about the problems of others and her criticism of her wealthy brethren, the Lady Yura gave me a postcard of a wonderful mansion, a wonderful regional landmark, not fifty miles from my grandfather's home.  
Thrusting the card into my hands, the lady lit yet another cigar. "I found this in the bottom of my suitcase; I meant to throw it out, but I suppose you can have it, as a reward for minding me in my last case of vapors. That, my dear, is the Shikkon of the eastern coast of your homeland; I assume someone of your stature has never even seen it. How bourgeois. Inuyasha, the owner of this particular ancient mansion has lived a life just marred, I mean just marred, by delicious scandals and tragedies. He was the son of the greatest lord of the east, his mother, some no-name beauty from the lower class-what a scandal that caused! Luckily, they both died many years ago, ending that particular trouble. Because of his chiseled features, his personality, and his enormous inheritance, Inuyasha's origin is quite forgivable. I would have loved nothing more than for him to take an interest in my daughter, Gladiola, but he is such an intense, private person, hardly sociable. He married this wonderful woman, great breeding, talent, beauty, social flare, the perfect wife. Poor dear-I heard he was just devastated by her sudden death last May. He hasn't been in society since.."  
My eyes widened. That conversation was almost a year ago, and yet that deep sadness still resonated within the amber pools of his eyes. I had thought of this man without seeing his face many times after that conversation, feeling a shared sense of sorrow, for we had both lost loved ones to sudden, inexplicable tragedy. I had laid my grief over my grandfather's death to rest years before, but as he made his way closer to me, his silver hair swaying in rhythm with his every step, I came to a sudden realization. There was more than sorrow behind his expression: there was a deep pain there, too, that only seemed to fester the closer he got to where I sat. Crumpling the fabric of my needlework tightly within my clenched fists, I prepared myself, for in a second, I would speak again to the man who I saved from the edge of self-destruction, a man who I had wounded, merely by existing. 


	3. Chapter Three

"The Other Wife"  
  
by: E. Marie E-mail: Emw712@aol.com  
  
Author's Note: June 1, 2003: *Sigh...well, so far, I have received very few reviews...but, I am not about to get discouraged here, people! Writing is a very selfish endeavor; I do this only for myself...and, I have to admit, I find it very appealing to be able to write Inuyasha into whatever situation I desire...bwahahaha!!!  
  
DISCLAIMER: You know the drill. I don't own Inuyasha, but odds are, neither do you! So, you don't sue me, I don't sue you!  
  
Chapter Three: "Archery" Lessons?  
There he was. Inuyasha. Two feet in front of me. If I wanted to, I could reach out and stroke that marvelous white suit...I could imagine its soft feel, as I ran my fingers all the way up his...  
"Kagome!" bellowed Lady Yura, her left eye twitching in sheer frustration. "Stupid child! Go, fetch that waiter directly and add another tea to the order!"  
The heat of embarrassment radiated from my face; fumbling with my sewing, I rose from my seat, only to be staid by his hand, strong and guileless in the simple motion of urging me to remain.  
"Let's not trouble the girl for my sake, madam. I will not stay here more than a moment," Inuyasha uttered, an edge of distaste evident in his voice.  
Yura waved a jeweled hand in my direction. "As you will, Mr. Inu- chan, but I must insist you not treat every servant this way. Living alone in that wonderful mansion must have softened you in your treatment of the proletariat...or is that just your family's way?"  
His grip on my arm tightened, and I dared not look him directly in the eye, so deep was my shame. Tears pulled in my eyes as he finally released me; falling back to the chair, I shifted my eyes slowly up his form, to find him, not looking directly at me, but at a point somewhere above my head.  
Drawing in a breath sharply through his teeth, as if controlling the anger that rode beneath the surface of his very skin, he said to the lady, "I saw your companion practicing her skills with the bow and arrow. May I recommend you direct her to spend her time at the hotel's new shooting range? The targets were installed just last season and, from what I saw of her aim, this girl could truly use the practice. Unless of course, you are so uncouth as to not seek to improve your intimate charge?"  
Lady Yura gasped in indignation. Even through my cloud of tears, I could see the vein on the side of her forehead swell with pressure, a sure sign of her seething anger. Throughout the highest social circles, Yura had been known for the past thirty years as the foremost in superficial "philanthropy" among her servants. My lack of skill in what she regarded as the sport of feudal kings had been a thorn in her side for the last several months, and for this man whom she sought so hard to impress to remark on that failing....I wondered if Inuyasha sought to have me discharged!  
By the time Lady Yura's blinding anger had quelled and she was ready for a rebuttal, Inuyasha had vanished, slipped onto the nearest elevator, and was well on his way to the sanctity of a private room. Through the entire encounter, he had not once addressed me directly, nor had he called me by my name.  
  
The next morning, I rose at dawn to see to milady's summons, only to find that she was "bedridden" with a "sudden case of vapors". These "vapors" had very easily diagnosed symptoms: whenever Lady Yura felt slighted by a member of her elitist clan, she would take to her bed for a few days, eating nothing but the finest French cuisine off the hotel's menu, terrorizing the maid service. Normally, I would sit by her bedside and read aloud articles from her favorite, vapid magazines, rubbing whatever parts of her anatomy "ached" the most, and doing random, meaningless tasks that exhausted me physically and emotionally. Since the blow Inuyasha dealt to her ego last night was so great (and was made in reference to me), I anticipated a day of backbreaking, heart wrenching....  
"STOP!" cried the Lady Yura, as I entered the threshold of her suite. "Horrid girl, don't even dream about setting foot in here! You are to head straight away to the shooting range, a maid is already fetching your bow and arrows, and don't you dare return to face me until you are a competent archer, you impotent girl!"  
Hiding my laughter, I retrieved my arrows from the already frazzled maid and made my way to the main foyer. No longer able to fight back my elation at this sudden chance at freedom, I executed a rather undignified skip into the main lobby.  
"Careful, Kagome. Your mistress might catch you looking happy," called that voice from behind me.  
Spinning on my heel, I gasped aloud when I saw Inuyasha, in well- tailored yet casual ensemble, this time, in varying shades of red, leaning against the cool surface of one of the lobby's marble pillars.  
Clearing my throat, I found my voice at long last. "The Lady Yura is in bed with a sudden illness," I managed to squeak. "She has sent me to practice my archery-"  
"Heh, at least that old bat is still predictable. That little barb I made last night was a gamble, but I was pretty sure I could win you your freedom. Kagome, I've done you a favor. Now it's your turn to show your gratitude."  
Shifting my feet nervously, I clutched my bag and asked the inevitable question: "But what could I possibly do for you?"  
Grabbing my wrist with what felt like great familiarity, he led me through the revolving door, out onto the lawn of the hotel, where a very expensive, very new automobile waited in readiness, top rolled down, engine running.  
Looking in his eyes, I saw the first glint of humor I had seen in him. "Come," he said, opening the passenger side door. "Spend the day with me."  
Knowing my reputation, my job, my well-being and, perhaps, my very heart were being jeopardized by this action, I did the only thing I could think of: I tossed my gold-tipped arrows and my bow in the backseat and got ready for the ride of my life. 


	4. Chapter Four

"The Other Wife" by: E. Marie E-mail: Emw712@aol.com  
  
Author's Note: June 2, 2003: Wow! Thanks for the reviews! In response to a few inquiries, yes, I drew the inspiration from this story from Daphne duMaurier's "Rebecca"; I thought the connection between the manga series and the novel were very startling; Kagome feeling like she is a poor replacement for Kikyo, wondering about Inuyasha's true feelings reminded me so much of the plight of the narrator from the novel and the movie! For those of you who haven't read the novel, I command you to do so! Never fear, I don't plan to necessarily pattern "The Other Wife" after "Rebecca" for much longer-but I am glad that there are conscientious readers out there who picked up on what I was trying to do!  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the house I live in. I don't own the car I drive. These things I borrow from my parents. I don't own Inuyasha. I borrow him from all of you. (Don't hate me!!!)  
  
Chapter Four: Unanswerable Questions  
  
My hair whipped about my face, wildly with the wind. The sea cliffs of Monte Carlo rolled by, the sea glistening from the glowing attention of the sun. Inuyasha, too, was bareheaded, but his long silver hair was captured in a long queue that stretched down his back. Studying this familiar stranger carefully, my cheeks colored at the thought of running my fingertips down his back and freeing that same silver hair, letting it run wild through my-  
I was nearly thrown from my seat as he brought the automobile to a screeching halt. Trying to maintain my dignity, I smoothed my dress and gathered my arrows, which had been scattered all over the backseat by the wild ride and the force of the sudden stop. The look Inuyasha gave me was unreadable as he opened my door and helped me out. The view literally took my breath away....  
The vista on which we stood was an abandoned villa on the very edge of the sea. From where we stood, I had a wonderful view of both the sea and the village at the other end of the tiny bay, created by the jutting cliffs. I felt as though we were the only two people alive in the world-me and this sad man, this Inuyasha.  
Watching him stroll slowly, in an almost predatory fashion toward the edge of the vista, a tiny, taunting voice rang in my head for the first time.  
'Perhaps he brought his wife here. Maybe he brought her to this same spot, maybe he kissed her here, with the sun burning its way into the sea...'  
Shaking the voice from my head, I stumbled down the rocky path to stand cautiously behind Inuyasha, admiring the view...and his silhouette. Inspired by the wonderful scenery and the handsome man before me, I remembered the sketchpad and charcoal pencil I always kept tucked in the bottom of my arrow cachet, in memory of my grandfather, the eternal artist. "Never go out in the world without something to catch your creative impulses," he would say, waving a paintbrush at his reluctant apprentice. "How will you carry on the proud family tradition of aesthetics if you are not always prepared to create?"  
Taking a seat on a nearby cliff rock, pencil in hand and pad on knee, my eyes narrowed on my subject and my hand flew across the page. Inuyasha's eyes remained fixed on the view; from my angle, I could capture the pensive expression on his face, the sea gulls, littering the sky, the small wharf and the village on the opposite shore. Prying my eyes reluctantly from my subject, I concentrated on some of the minor details of the sketch, touching up hastily drawn lines, making clearer strokes. When I was satisfied that I had done all that I could, I sighed and examined my work. My grandfather was the true artistic genius of our family, and the burden of carrying on his legacy was certainly misplaced in me.  
"I like the attention you devote to your subject," he said into my ear. His warm breath so close to my skin startled me; I hadn't noticed him slip behind me to examine my work.  
"Oh, this is really nothing, I just-"  
Stilling my self- critique with a wave of his hand, he continued. "Nonsense, you do good work. However, I think you should take a closer look at my silhouette. Maybe it was the way of the wind, but, honestly, Kagome, it looks as though you've given me dog ears!"  
Blushing at my obvious faux pas, I fumbled to erase my mistake. I couldn't bring myself to tell him that I wasn't paying attention to his ears; I was studying that look on his face, the sudden view of a battered soul.  
Grabbing my hand firmly, Inuyasha took the eraser from my hand. "Feh, leave it. I think the ears suit me. Hey! You even captured those little boats in the bay!"  
"Here," I said as I handed him the sketch. "You can keep this. I never liked boats anyway."  
"That's ridiculous, Kagome; how can a big girl like you be so afraid of a little boat? I'll have to rent a skipper tomorrow and take you out on the bay myself, to get you over your childish fear!" Sticking his chest out in a triumphant stance, he grinned widely at me, like a school boy who had bested his best friend at long last.  
Prickling at the thought of being thought childish (even while my heart pounded at the mention of another day in his company), I replied briskly, "I am not afraid of some little boat!"  
Tweaking my nose playfully, Inuyasha asked, "Then what is it your afraid of?"  
"Drowning!" I announced loudly, thinking my answer very clever.  
In that instant, the light in his eyes was extinguished, and Inuyasha took a step back from me, as if I had brought my hand back and struck him full in the face. He seemed to look right through me for an instant, before he spun on his heel and returned swiftly to the automobile, leaving me where I stood. I felt as though every molecule of my body was made of lead; I could not follow him and my eyes welled with tears. What had I said to change his manner toward me? Was I that repulsive?  
Wiping the drops of moisture from my cheeks, I gathered my belongings and trudged my way to the automobile, where Inuyasha waited, silent, eyes facing forward. This is how we returned to the hotel, not a word spoken, not a glance exchanged. When he brought the car to a stop outside the hotel, I did not wait for him to open my door. I vaulted from my seat and ran inside, no longer able to hold back my tears, thinking all the while:  
'He'll never want to see me again.' 


	5. Chapter Five

"The Other Wife"  
  
by: E. Marie E-mail: Emw712@aol.com  
  
Author's Note: June 4, 2003: Today, the author has nothing noteworthy to say. Here's the next chapter. Please, read and review...seriously. Even if it's a short review, even if all you can manage to type is a grossly misspelled adjective like "kewl" or "suk"-just let me know you're still reading. Remember that saying, "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all"? Well, forget that. Throw it out the window. Let me know if you hate "The Other Wife". Let me know if you love "The Other Wife", let me know. Especially let me know if you neither love nor hate "The Other Wife", because, to me, mediocrity is a fate worse than death!!! Well, maybe not worse than death, but definitely not something I'm happy with....anyway....  
  
DISCLAIMER: I wonder, why is it so important to write a disclaimer before every chapter? I mean, it is plainly obvious that I do not own Inuyasha; if I did, why would I be writing fan fiction? My fan fiction would be actual episodes...anyway, just for routine's sake, I don't own Inuyasha.  
  
Chapter Five: Fate and Orange Juice  
The next morning, the unbelievable happened: Lady Yura actually became ill. Her pasty skin glistened with the sweat of her fever; her hands swelled from the very heat of her body to the point where the flesh on her hands appeared to be on the verge of devouring her many, gaudy rings. From sunrise to sunset, I was anchored to Lady Yura's side, wiping her forehead with a damp cloth, answering her delirious cries, feeding her with my own hand. All the while, she criticized every aspect of my personality, figure, and disposition. Whether or not milady knew I was the one slaving over her is still questionable. Stranded by her side, unable to leave for a meal or even fresh air, I was completely and utterly miserable. Even if I had been granted my freedom, the sights of Monte Carlo would have been wasted on my teary eyes; the exotic cuisine would have tasted like nothing better than sawdust. I was a worthless human being, of no importance, completely and truly alone....  
The hours I sat by Lady Yura's side, keeping watch over that horrible, suffering woman, I had time to search my memory deeply for everything I had gleaned form passing conversations, society columns, and milady's never-ending monologue of gossip about the upper class. Sitting the water basin in my lap and preparing a cold compress, the water running through my fingers reminded me of my time at the vista with Inuyasha...what had I said?  
'The boats...we were talking about the boats...and I spoke of....'  
I jumped from my chair, upsetting the water basin, arcs of water barely missing Lady Yura, leaving marks on the Persian rug of her plush room. Ringing for a maid to repair the damage, I stumbled down the corridor to my own, small room, where I collapsed on the bed, my body wrenching with sobs.  
Drowning. I joked about my fear of drowning...  
His wife...Lady Yura once told me that his wife...drowned....  
  
After a sleepless night marked by sustained outbursts of tears and many turns pacing the bare floor of my room, I returned to Lady Yura's room for another day of maintaining the exhaustive bedside manner. Apparently milady was feeling much better; the moment I entered her chamber, she grabbed a book from her nightstand and, with all her feeble strength, hurled the volume in the general direction of my head.  
"Irrefutable child, get out of this room! You are not fit for my sight! Look at you! Uncombed hair! Dark circles under those black eyes! Go, find some sustainment for yourself! GO!"  
While my tired mind tried to contemplate what milady meant when she created the word "sustainment", my body made it as far as the corridor before I nearly collapsed from the demands of my empty stomach. While my heart was in pieces, I hadn't concerned myself with the 'unimportant things', like food. Grateful for Lady Yura's unintentional grant of reprieve, I felt no guilt in leaving her to the care of the able hotel staff while I took my breakfast in the hotel restaurant. Almost every table in the dining foyer was full, but luckily for me, I was spared having to seat at a table with strangers in my bedraggled condition, for a small corner table with a single chair remained free. The waiter attended to me rather swiftly, for my association with Lady Yura tied me quite fast to her infamous treatment of "lazy help". In a few moments, the poor lad returned with my orange juice; perhaps it was his over eagerness to appear efficient, perhaps it was my fatigue, but somehow, the large glass of sticky citrus was suddenly spreading itself across my table, seeping into the table cloth, and overrunning onto the marble floor.  
A slew of waiters and hotel staff descended on the scene, scurrying to save the dignity of the waiter and repair the damage to the pristine table setting. The poor waiter escorted me away from the mess that had been my peaceful table in the corner; without another available table, it appeared as though my breakfast was becoming a disaster, like everything else in my life, when, another waiter approached us.  
"Excusez moi, mademoiselle," he beckoned. "Another guest has offered you a seat at his table, while yours is being put to rights." With this, the waiter spun on his heel and led me without a word to the other side of the foyer. My hunger balanced my embarrassment, and I prepared to greet my hero when-  
"Good morning, mademoiselle Kagome." Inuyasha greeted me, raising his glass to me in an informal salute. "Would you join me for breakfast?" 


	6. Chapter Six

"The Other Wife"  
  
by: E. Marie E-mail: Emw712@aol.com  
  
Author's Note: June 5, 2003: If enthusiasm is a felony, then I am doomed to serve several life sentences. I turn back flips when new, translated episodes of the Inuyasha manga are posted. Waiters and waitresses alike have laughed at my zeal for ordering chocolate covered cheesecake. You should see me when I get reviews for "The Other Wife". Even before I open the review to see what it says, absolute, crazy-happy delirium does an en pointe ballet across my face...see how happy I am? Isn't it great when you can make someone happy, just by expressing your opinion? Use your freedom of speech. Keep on reading; keep on reviewing! Keep me happy!!!  
  
Author's Apology: I am deeply sorry; I am a new member of fanfiction.net. I didn't realize that anonymous reviews of my fanfic were not being accepted (thanks for pointing it out!!!) The problem is fixed; anonymous reviews, hate mail, positive, negative- I don't discriminate! All reviews are now, officially, welcome!  
  
DISCLAIMER: Guess what? I don't own Inuyasha! But, odds are, you already knew this...  
  
Chapter Six: The Vistas of Monte Carlo Revisited  
Somehow, a chair materialized in front of me. In retrospect, that waiter must have pulled one over from another table, but at the time, I was so stunned by the sudden appearance of Inuyasha, I thought the chair had just appeared, called forth by the man with the glass tilted toward me. It was a concentrated effort, but I regained control of my body long enough to raise my dropped jaw and have a seat...but I couldn't bring myself to take my eyes from Inuyasha. Why was he being so nice to me? How could he have forgotten my ignorance?  
Downing the contents of his glass in a single swig, Inuyasha slammed the cup on the table and narrowed his eyes at me. He grinned.  
"You look terrible, Kagome. Where were you yesterday? Feh, probably avoiding me, ne?"  
I bristled at his insult...and his insinuation that I was somehow afraid of him. Who did he think he was, insulting me like that? Lady Yura? I opened my mouth to make an equal biting remark but found I had nothing to say. An image flashed in my mind of me from just a few hours before, lying on my bed, sobbing at the thought of never seeing Inuyasha again, at least to make my apologies. My fingers traced the circles under my eyes. 'I'm more tired than I thought...'  
Reaching across the small table, he caught my other hand tightly and refused to loosen his grip until I looked at him again.  
"Feh, I was just playing with you. I heard that wretched "companion" of yours was sick...I mean, actually sick...has she abused you so much you can't even make me pay for that little joke?"  
I wrenched my hand from him and turned my eyes to my lap, so he wouldn't see my tears...my look of hurt....I heard him shift in his chair, and thinking he was about to leave me again, this time, perhaps, for good, I cleared my throat and found the words:  
"After the other day, what I said, the way you acted, I thought you didn't care to see me again...I'm sorry, I'm not much company at the moment...."  
"Of course not!" he exclaimed, shoving something toward me from across the table. I looked up...a menu...."You haven't even had breakfast yet, you stupid girl! Now, let me help you order! If your French is as bad as your aim, who knows what you may order?"  
With trembling hands, I opened the menu, but I couldn't tear my eyes from Inuyasha, the smile that lurked behind his eyes. 'Is it really so easy to just forget?'  
Those eyes were suddenly inches away from mine, as he leaned across the table to capture my full attention. A chill shot up my spine; he was so very close to me....  
"Hurry up and order! If you take much longer, we'll be stuck here for lunch, too, and we have a full day ahead of us!"  
While he turned away to signal for another waiter, I held a hand to my chest, in an attempt to calm my pounding heart. While my spirits ran high, my mind began to chip away at my happiness.  
'Why is this wealthy, handsome man giving me another day with him? I'm little better than a servant...and...his heart is still an open wound from the death of his wife, and all I seem to do is pour salt into it...'  
  
"Uh-", I groaned as I dug through my baggage, trying to find something worthy to wear for my second try at a day with Inuyasha. Letting him order had certainly been a good decision; delicate pastries, hearty breakfast meats, buttered bread, rich coffee....Letting him bully me into eating so fast...now that was a mistake....  
"He certainly seemed anxious to get me out of the hotel again", I said aloud, stifling a chuckle. At breakfast, he was like a little boy, fidgeting in his seat, impatient to begin a new adventure...who knew a member of the elite could be so immature?  
I stopped in my struggle with my wardrobe...a member of the elite...and me, an underling of one of his compatriots in wealth and leisure...how could I be worthy of him? Pulling my finest day dress out from the bottom of the chest, I remembered how excited I was at the concept of having a store bought dress...and how Lady Yura ridiculed the cotton fabric, the "bourgeois lines"....  
An impatient, rapid series of knocks on my door broke my stream of thought.  
"Hey!" bellowed Inuyasha from behind my bedroom door. "You wanted to change into something not covered in orange juice, but I'm about to make you leave in what you have on, sticky or not! Hurry up! And don't forget a hat! The sun is out, and that lady of yours is very critical of bright, red skin!"  
With a sigh, I discarded my black dress, ruined by that mornings mishap, and slid into the day dress. The hem came a few inches above my knee; a large red bow decorated the neckline. Catching a glimpse of my reflection in the looking glass, I thought I looked like little more than an inexperienced schoolgirl. Another round of raps on my door reminded me of that man, the handsome widower waiting for me....  
Fighting back my feelings of inadequacy, I straightened my hair and hurried out to meet my sophisticate...  
"HEY!!! WHERE'S THE HAT?"  
  
Once more, he drove that exquisite car at a breakneck speed along the road by the sea. This time, my hair was free from the abuse of the wind, captured under my horrid sun hat. The air smelled of salt water and lavender, and the birth of the summer coastal winds threatened to rid me of that loathsome hat. With a sigh, I kept one hand firmly on the brim, in an effort to preserve my dignity and save my skin from the silent brutality of the sun. Inuyasha's eyes never turned from the road ahead, which I was dually thankful for, because at the moment, I looked ridiculous, and any distractions to the driver while travelling at that speed would have been certain disaster. The many seaside vistas were swept into the passing scenery, a blur of beautiful landscapes and views of the sea. I had expected we would visit yet another of this tourist hot spots, but Inuyasha showed no signs of even slowing the vehicle to catch a passing glance. When the vista from our first ill-fated excursion was a few kilometers behind us, a fork appeared in the road ahead. Accelerating constantly, he chose the branch that led away from the sea and further into the rural backdrop that ran behind the glittering casinos and resorts of Monte Carlo. Finally satisfied that we were far enough away from the corruption of the sea, he slowed the car to a roll, bringing us to a stop in a secluded meadow.  
Glad for the reprieve from the wind, I removed the hat and let my ruffled hair fall about my shoulders, as Inuyasha stepped from the car, removed his jacket and stretched his lean, muscular arms.  
"Welcome to the best Monte Carlo has to offer, mademoiselle! I thought we could both use a break from the marble and the gold and the loud, obnoxious socialites...."  
Watching him walk around the car to open my door, the doubt returned once more to plague my mind. Taking me by the hand, helping me out of his car, the temptation was too great. I could not stop myself from asking the dreaded question...  
"Inuyasha! Why are you here, with me? I'm just some poor, dull paid companion, and you are...well beyond my class and worth...."  
Grabbing me roughly by the shoulders, his eyes flared with the bright temper that I had long sensed lurked within him.  
"Kagome", he growled my name, fighting to control his temper. "If I ever hear you...suggest that again, I really will never speak to you again. Why I spend time with you is between you and I; don't dirty our time together with that poison that bitch Yura pours into your ears...do you understand?"  
Biting my lips, I managed a faint nod. With this, he released me, nearly pushing me away from him. He turned from me and pulled a large woven basket from the back of the vehicle, before beginning down a nearby path into the surrounding forest. No longer able to hold back, tears of shame, embarrassment.relief poured down my face.  
"K-Kagome?" He turned, looking so stricken to see me crying. Inuyasha's distress was evident as he rushed back to my side. With his free hand, he stopped a large, wet tear from sliding off my face.  
"Oh, come on, don't cry! I hate it when girls cry!" Taking my hand once more, he pulled me gently behind him, the basket hitting both our legs in his zeal to distract me from what brought me to tears. Turning to me, he grinned widely and said:  
"Just a bit further, then.I have something to give you!" 


	7. Chapter Seven

"The Other Wife"  
  
by: E. Marie E-mail: Emw712@aol.com  
  
Author's Note: June 7, 2003: I am...a girl. For those of you who haven't figured it out by now, estrogen flows through my veins, but, being a girl does not necessarily mean that all I can produce is romantic mush. So far in this fanfic, Kagome has been prompt in producing tears and a broken heart, but the ingenue and her hero seem to have everything under control. Don't get comfortable, people! Don't quit reading, thinking this is just another easy-squeezy love story; gothic character development is just around the corner! Angst, mystery, murder, intrigue...all are waiting just over the horizon. So, for all you realists out there-let these two have their time on the sunny shores of Monte Carlo. Fate is about to get fickle. Keep reading; keep reviewing; keep me motivated!  
  
Ask the Author: After my comment about "happy-crazy" emotions "doing an en pointe ballet across my face when I receive reviews", (Chapter Six, Author's Note), the question has been asked: am I an anime-lovin' ballerina? Author's Answer: Well, you're 75% right...I'm an anime lovin' dancer (tap and jazz are more my speed), but I used to take ballet...so, make of that what you will!  
  
DISCLAIMER: I never claimed to own Inuyasha, but as a sign of the times, I'm going to follow the trend and anticipate that somebody out there is reading through all these fanfics, just waiting for one of us to not be grossly specific in saying, "HEY! I don't own Inuyasha!" *Ahem. HEY! I don't own Inuyasha! Forget this junk! Get to the story!  
  
Chapter Seven: Second Chances, False Reflections  
As I relayed these events to Sango many years later, I remember a puzzled expression creeping across her face. Knowing a question was brewing behind those pretty features, I paused in my story, giving her a moment to sort through her thoughts and challenge my memories.  
"But, Kagome," she began, taking my hand and looking me directly in the eye. "How could you have been so deeply affected by a man you just met? Excuse my prying, but you claim to have spent an entire night, tossing and turning, crying over the idea of upsetting a man you barely knew. Not to be impertinent, but-"  
"But why was I so weak, so fragile, so...simple-minded?" I completed her thought, hoping to spare her, but Sango's characteristic blush still rose to the surface. Edging closer to her on the settee and taking her other hand in mine, I told her what I am about to tell you.  
By nature, I am a very strong, independent woman. Even as a child, I was pig-headed and stubborn; my false courage always got me into trouble with my mother. I remember the day she died, how I tried to impress on the world that, even though on the outside, I appeared to be only seven years old, on the inside, I was full-grown, ready to face the world alone. It saddens me now to look back on my childhood, how willing I was, back then, to relinquish my ties to anyone and live alone. In those first seven years, I lost my father, my brother, my mother; all of my family was taken from me by Fate, save for a grandfather I had never seen. At my mother's wake, I hid beneath my bed, ignoring the pleas of neighbors and family friends to come out, to eat; I kicked at there outstretched hands as they reached under the bed, trying to pull me out into their company. That was the only way I knew how to deal with my grief: to keep everybody away, because everything I loved was lost to me.  
The next thing I remember, I was in the backseat of a strange car; I must have fallen asleep, and the hands of my mother's friends, once met without resistance, pulled me from my sanctuary and sent me away. Before I could make my anger known to the driver, the car pulled to a stop in front of a small, white house, cradled by a single, ancient oak. The driver had to open the car door for me; my family had never been affluent, and that was the first time I had been granted the privilege of riding in an automobile.  
For a seven-year old, I was rather strong and fleet of foot. I bolted from the car, my little legs pumping, carrying me back the way we had come, when I stopped....Nothing was familiar. The landscape was barren, except for that house and the tree, but now, there was something new on the horizon. A man, a very old man, had stepped out of the house and was slowly making his way toward me. A thought swept over me, like a gentle wave, breaking on the shore of my mind:  
"This is Grandfather. I am not alone any more...."  
I had stopped running, stopped moving altogether, and just stood there, like a prim, little statue, looking on my grandfather for the first time. In a few moments, he was at my side, grinning down at me.  
"Come into the house, little one", he said, holding out his hand to me. I stared at his palms, the cascades of wrinkles, the array of paint colors, dappling his hand. Looking into his old, black eyes, I gave him my hand for the first time, telling him firmly,  
"My name is Kagome. KA-GO-ME!"  
  
My grandfather taught me more than just how to make charcoal sketches of sunsets and paint odd varieties of fruit in cracked bowls. From him, I learned that the world is not just a place of death and loss, the impact a single person can have on the world, the importance of never letting anyone tell you that you are less than you are. Everyday, he would walk the mile to the small town schoolhouse; even when his portraits of demanding elitists were past-due, even when his arthritis threatened to make him a prisoner within his own home. It was very important to my grandfather to get me to school early, to encourage me to be swift in my studies, and even more so, he prided himself on being the first thing I saw when the bell rang and I stepped out the door. Our time together to and from school was the time when I felt closest to my grandfather, retracing our steps day after day, talking about everything from weather to what was wrong with boys to my dreams. For eleven years, he walked me to that school as a pupil, but even when I became the assistant headmistress after my graduation, he still made his daily walks with me. The day I dismissed class, looked out the window and did not see his smiling face, waiting on me to gather my things, I just knew....  
I made the walk to our little white house alone, for the first time. I could not bring myself to go any faster than the pace my grandfather and I had always walked together. In my mind, I could imagine what he would be saying at that moment, if he were still here, how he would knock me lightly under the chin, tell me not to look so glum, to enjoy the sunny days, while I still could.  
From the end of the long drive, I could see a slew of cars, surrounding the house. A swarm of neighbors, friends, clients of my grandfather surrounded me, their words swarming around me like tiny wasps, nipping at my flesh.  
"He made it home...just collapsed...Lady Yura came for her final sitting...found him there...nothing could be done...like he fell asleep and never looked up...so peaceful...dreadfully sorry...."  
My eyes were dry; the sorrow I felt was too deep to be expressed with tears, cries, or the renting of my garments. A throng of well-wishers surrounded a large, weeping mass of pale flesh and gaudy taffeta; the Lady Yura was playing her role as the "traumatized discoverer of the body" to the hilt, weeping hysterically, demanding handkerchiefs and smelling salts. A stretcher, covered in a long, black cloth, bore my grandfather from his little white house for the last time. While the mourners wailed and clutched each other on the lawn, I went in the back door and locked myself in my room. This time, I was too big to fit under my bed.  
  
Who knows what motivates us to do what we do? I cannot fathom why the Lady Yura sought me out the morning of the burial, offering me employment in a boisterous, tactless fashion. Looking back, I cannot fathom why I decided to accept her offer, but perhaps I felt I needed the escape from the heartache. In all reality, my reasons were probably more practical. As an artist, my grandfather never cared from material possessions; his art and me were the only two things he cared for. The house was being sold to cover all our debts, the taxes, the cost of the funeral....  
Imagine almost two years, living without the most basic of human luxuries: a kind word, a soft glance, a smile. My grandfather had taught me to be strong in my self-worth, but under the constant criticism of Lady Yura, the inferiority complex forced on me by her position in society. Not a day went by that I was not constantly reminded that I had come from a poor family, that my family was gone, that I was desolate and alone. My life developed a desperate sense of sameness, following milady from luxurious resort to exotic spa, sleeping in rooms akin to closets, absorbing insults knowing I could never make a rebuttal or defend my honor.  
Ending my life was never an option. Watching my family fall about me, seeing them all plucked suddenly from this mortal coil, made me want to cling to life for every moment I could, even if that meant living a miserable existence until the lady tired of mocking me and belittling me. Then, on that day in Monte Carlo...when I saw him on the sea cliffs, about to end his life in a single plunge....  
Inuyasha was the first person who had truly seen me in almost two years. The other members of the elite tended to dismiss me rudely as an unworthy; even worse, others would stare right through me, as if I were some kind of shade, like an echo of someone of worth. But, when Inuyasha looked into my eyes for the first time, I felt solid for the first time in so long, and when he touched me....  
The attraction I felt for Inuyasha was deep and instantaneous. In the dark recesses of my mind, all I wanted was to feel as much of him as I could, become closer to him in ways that made the guests of these plush hotels blush and hide their faces behind fans or gloved hands. More importantly, I felt such a connection to him, like a resonating deja vu; the sense of kismet was so great, that when I thought I had ruined that tie with him through my ignorance, my tears and broken heart seemed quite justified. That night following Lady Yura's illness, the dark evening when my very soul seemed to crumble around me, I wasn't mourning just the loss of a handsome, exotic widower. I was trying to cope with the loss of the first person who was willing to see me, the first person I felt I could truly love.  
  
Inuyasha tightened his grip on my hand, helping me over fallen logs that littered our path. More than willing to accept any help he was willing to offer me, I enjoyed the chance to walk with him in pure silence, listening to nothing but the chorus of birds in the trees and the sound of his breath. At a bend in the path, a small spring and a freshwater stream appeared from the earth, saplings and wild roses lining its banks. Finally satisfied with the location, Inuyasha released my hand and emptied the contents of the basket: blanket, wine cask, glasses, a wheel of brie, fresh strawberries, little tins of deviled eggs and ham.  
"Feh, it ain't much," said Inuyasha, straightening the checkered blanket before pouring a glass of wine. "I had the concierge get a little picnic together for me. I ordered this last night, but I had the feeling I'd see you again, so, I had them pack enough for two."  
Taking in a deep breath, I surveyed the secluded beauty of our surroundings, before taking the proffered glass of wine. "Inuyasha, this certainly is a wonderful surprise."  
"Oh!" he cried, lurching across the blanket to grab the discarded picnic basket and nearly toppling me in the process.  
"Sit!" Inuyasha commanded. "And close your eyes! You ain't seen nothing yet, Kagome!"  
My skin tingled at the thought of what he wanted to give to me. I could think of one thing in particular I wanted from him at that moment, and it certainly couldn't be kept in a wicker basket. Nevertheless, the very prospect of Inuyasha valuing me enough to trouble himself to this extent made me willing to do whatever he asked.  
At his beckoning, I opened my eyes once more...and before me sat an antique art set, equipped with fresh paints, pencils of different hues, sketch paper....I could barely breathe, because the case itself, made of the finest mahogany and covered in intricate carvings of birds of paradise, had probably cost more money than I had ever held in my life....The selection of the supplies had been done meticulously; everything I needed to create a masterpiece had been assembled there by hand...by Inuyasha's hand.  
I looked up and saw his expression, his even study of my face.  
"Don't get too excited," he began, rising to his feet to look beyond the brook and out into the horizon. "I got you these things and brought you here today, because...I want you to capture the beauty of this place. I have so few happy memories, and time always eats away at the beauty of the past, so, I want you to paint, draw, sketch, whatever you do...create this day with you, for me, on paper, so I can carry it with me always."  
Gently stoking one of the fine pointed brushes, I thought for a brief moment that this couldn't possibly be real, that this man, so distrusting, so sad, so deeply angry, could be willing to make himself vulnerable to me here. His request was simple: "create for me, don't let me forget", but the idea of someone so remarkable going to such lengths to remember a day with someone like me....  
But even as we sat there in the sun, indulging in fine wine, strawberries, dipping our feet in the cooling stream, how could we have known that the first of many challenges for us both was already on its way to Monte Carlo, ready to end this intense, casual, beautiful vacation from our personal tragedies.... 


	8. Chapter Eight

"The Other Wife" by: E. Marie, E-mail: Emw712@aol.com  
  
Author's Note: June 8, 2003: Well, what can I say? Sorry, people, I was never in this game for you, but getting reviews does make my inner child do a little jig of happiness. Right now, I am pretty much chomping at the bit. I have something very dark and very appealing brewing in the creative quadrant of my gourd for a future chapter. However, I only have this week before I'm being put on an airplane and shipped to the Deep South for two weeks, without laptops, without stupid AOL.and without fanfiction.net.. I'm going to try and give you all I've got, but remember, you guys have work to do to! Keep reading! Keep reviewing! Keep me from remembering I'm afraid to fly!  
  
Author's Shameless Plugging: If any of you people out there in ff.net-land love Rurouni Kenshin, check out "Alone" by Minami-chan, rated R. "I calls 'em like I sees 'em", and if you like "'em" well-written and intriguing, you'll have to check it out!  
  
DISCLAIMER: At this moment, I barely even own my sanity, so, obviously, I still don't own Inuyasha.  
  
Chapter Eight: Neither Wind Nor Snow  
That day by the stream was a wonderful prelude to the days that would come. From all the sketches I made that day, I chose to keep only one: a full portrait of his face. At the time, I wasn't sure if he knew I had been sketching him so intimately, and I felt a little wave of guilt in taking his likeness.but he wanted his memories of the true beauty of Monte Carlo, and I wanted something to remind me of the most exquisite man I had ever met looking me in the eyes and truly seeing me...  
Lady Yura was a very physically sound woman and recovered from her high fever completely within two days time. "Nevertheless," she remarked from amidst her avalanche of pillows and discarded tissues, "a lady's health should always be very frail. If I were to just bound out this bed, like some kind of.I don't know! You were a peasant girl! You know all about those creatures that bound out of illness. I am a great lady, not some ignorant magnanimous animal; that is why I simply must stay bedridden for at least another week, to maintain to the world that I am an intelligent, cultured woman. I will not ignore the laws of society! I will not show impotence!"  
I turned my head to hide my smile. My revenge on my benevolent employer would be the gift of ignorance: never telling her exactly what 'impotence' meant. In a way, I was deeply grateful for Lady Yura's strange, neurotic behavior, for nothing sounded more appealing to me than another week with Inuyasha, time spent unspoiled by milady's odious presence.  
Inuyasha and I had four more days together, during which time he showed me more of the secret delights of Monte Carlo. We visited that tiny fishing village we had seen from the villa during our first excursion; renting one of those little boats and drowning were two subjects that were never broached. Just an hour's drive from our hotel was a tiny village of artists that it seemed time and the tourist population had forgot. There were so many hidden alcoves of activity about Monte Carlo, an entire world of minor culture that went entirely unnoticed by the normal squad of elitists and nouveau-riche vacationers. The thought did occur to me: 'Inuyasha is certainly extremely familiar with all these exotic, hidden locations about Monte Carlo, almost as though he is a native, born and bred- and yet, his family is from my homeland, my region.I wonder, how did he become so intimate with these places?'  
This question, and many others, built up behind the dam of admiration for him I had built up in my mind. Though it seemed that in our brief time together, I had bore my entire soul before him, revealed every crease in the book of my life, he had yet to become truly open with me, even to the slightest degree. When thinking of his past, his hidden desires, his dreams of the future, all I could draw in my mind was a blurry image, picked up from flippant remarks he made, passing gestures, his personal preferences as I observed them. What puzzled me most was his behavior toward me; even though Inuyasha would shoot me glances that made me feel as if every molecule in my body were liquid, even though I could, at times, catch glimpses of desire in those amber eyes, he did nothing more than take my hand. Once, while we walked the secluded shore that ran along a small cluster of private inns, he wrapped his arm around me, as if to shelter me from the cold.but his arm lingered longer than was necessary, and his fingers traced delicate patterns on my arm, sending more chills up my spine than the cool evening air. Inuyasha and I were certainly alone for great periods of time, and infinite opportunities to increase our level of intimacy had presented themselves, and yet, he refrained from doing more than maintaining chaste, polite physical contact.  
Despite the distance Inuyasha seemed to be placing between us, I could not severe within my mind the thought that we were, somehow, deeply connected. Every moment of my day was absorbed with thoughts of Inuyasha; I fell asleep at night picturing his face, his lips giving me more than just a brief whisper of "good night" before our parting. Even so, lurking in my mind always was an impermeable sadness at the thought that, even though he gave his attention, his days to me, he, too, spent his nights dreaming, not of me, but of his late wife.  
One of the strongest threads that ran the course between my soul and Inuyasha was our shared experiences with death. Both of us had lost our parents suddenly; both of us had lost loved ones within the last few ones, people who had greatly shaped our lives. Fighting tears, I told Inuyasha of my grandfather, my great love for him, how he had built me up to face the world, my soul-shattering grief at his passing. Yet, once more, Inuyasha's tongue was still about the death of his beloved, the loss of his wife. From what I understood from Lady Yura's idle gossip, his wife had passed suddenly well over two years ago, and yet, he could still not bring himself to speak of her. Through another sleepless night, I came to the conclusion that.he must still.be deeply in love with her, even after all this time.so much so, he won't speak of her death, he won't heal his heart..  
Four days after Lady Yura's illness, two days after her vow to remain bedridden for a week, Inuyasha forsook his automobile, saying we would go by foot for the day. He took me down into the main town of Monte Carlo, and we spent hours roaming the streets, enjoying the street performers, taking tea at a student café. When my feet began to ache from the walk, Inuyasha took me on his back and carried me until I came to a "full recovery", much to the bewildered amusement of the others on the street. As streaks of red and orange marred the sky, announcing the beginning of the sunset and the end of our day, Inuyasha set me back on the ground and, taking my hand, led me from the town toward the sea.toward the cliffs, where we first met. Once at the crag where I had first called to Inuyasha, pleading him to spare his own life, Inuyasha dropped my hand and, taking me by the shoulders, turned me to face him. Holding me firmly, he closed his eyes and said in a voice shaken by emotion:  
"I sure ain't much of a poet; flowery words just aren't my style, Kagome, but, I.I just wanted you to know that.you have made my heart gladder; hell, you saved more than my spirits, you saved me. I thought that there was nothing left for me here, in this world, but you're the one who woke me up from that long nightmare, and I want to thank you. So, I gotcha a little somethin'."  
Reaching into his pocket, Inuyasha pulled out a long necklace of black pearls and polished bone. The dying rays of the sun danced on the shiny surface of each pearl, so it looked as though the necklace glowed with a hidden magic. Its style alone was an allusion to ancient prayer beads; this "little somethin'" was truly an antique and was certainly the most expensive of all his gestures to me.  
Choking back tears of gratitude and a mixture of all the feelings I harbored for him, I gathered my hair in my hand as he slipped the beautiful prayer beads over my head. Though I would have loved nothing more than to be the eternal romantic and never remove them, as if the beads were the sign of an odd engagement, I knew that Lady Yura would wonder how I came upon such a wonderful and expensive piece. No, I would have to do with keeping Inuyasha's gift tucked in my baggage, in my chest, from my own protection.  
Taking my own small hand in his large, calloused palm, Inuyasha led me back to through the town, to our hotel, where we parted once more; "good night" was the only exchange between our lips..  
  
The next morning, I perfected my coif, humming a little tune I had picked up from one of the street performers from the day before. Growing bold, I took the black prayer beads and tucked them in the front pocket of my smock.  
"With any luck", I said aloud, patting the hidden treasure of my pocket, "Lady Yura will be brief in her mindless ramblings today, and I will be wearing you within the hour, as I take breakfast with my Inuyasha.."  
When I opened the door to Lady Yura's room, I nearly collapsed at the sight that awaited me. Not only was milady out of bed, she was wearing her best travel suit, a preposterous hat, covered in large plumage and hideous paper birds. Lady Yura conducted a squad of flustered maids bearing dresses and assorted hat boxes, her bellows increasing the tempo of their frenzied labor. Finally noticing my presence in the doorway, Lady Yura waved a gloved hand in my general direction, indicating I should come to her immediately.  
"There you are, you lazy slug abed!" began milady, repositioning her hat an angle on her head that further defied the basic laws of gravity. "You must pack immediately; we are taking the noon steamer, bound for home."  
My mind was a whirl of distress, fear, heart-clenching sadness. Leaving, and leaving immediately. No time to even say good-bye to Inuyasha, to explain myself, to ask him the question that had been brewing inside me since the moment I first saw him, looking over the edge and into the sea....  
Desperation made me find a voice. "But, Lady Yura-"  
A gloved hand was placed inches in front of my face, silencing me. "Ah, ah, no "buts", Kagome! Butts are found only on the ends of cigarettes and impotent little girls."  
For once, the humor of milady's stupidity was lost on me.  
"Lady Yura, what of you recovering so quickly from your illness? I thought the rules of good society dictated you stay in bed at least three more days!"  
Reaching deep into the dark valley between her ample bosoms, Lady Yura retrieved a creased, yellow square of paper-a telegram. "Foolish little Kagome-how could I have say such a thing? I would punish you for your impotence if I weren't so happy at this moment. I received this telegram from my dear daughter, Gladiola, today. She has wormed, I mean, she has become quite close to a rich young man, who just happens to be blind as a bat, and now, he has asked for her hand in marriage! I must head to her side straightaway, so we can make our demands for the wedding quite clear! The steamer leaves at noon! Gather your rags, now, Kagome!"  
Stumbling from Lady Yura's door, I collapsed in the corridor, my body constricted with waves of nausea and overwhelming pain. My time as a person was over; my days with the one person who made me feel truly alive had come to a sudden end, and I had no way to let him know....  
Tears welling in my eyes, I fumbled with the door to my room, whispering quietly to myself:  
'Inuyasha...I'm so sorry...love you...good-bye....' 


	9. Chapter Nine

"The Other Wife" by: E. Marie E-mail: Emw712@aol.com  
  
Author's Note: June 11, 2003: Wow! What a difference a few days make, huh? When I left to be "orientated" for my freshman year at the university, my review counter was at a nice round number -zero- thanks to my technical ineptitude. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! Selfish endeavors-like writing (and architecture, for all you Ayn Rand fans out there)-are very good for the soul; but if writing chapters is soul food, the reviews are the soul dessert! And, boy, does my inner child like dessert! Keep reading! Keep writing! Keep up my inner child's addiction to verbal sugar (and spice)!  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the rights to having a bad day. I don't own the rights to the phrase "manic Monday". To reiterate, I own neither "Inuyasha" nor the first few chapters of "Rebecca". There.now, let's all play nice..  
  
Chapter Nine: A Question Answered in the Bungalow  
The bags were packed. The last bellhop, bearing the last overflowing hatbox, had made his journey to the waiting automobile almost a half an hour before. Even my beaten little travel chest had been loaded, crushed under the sheer volume of Lady Yura's ten large pieces of baggage and a cascade of boxes and random souvenirs.  
At that particular moment, my mind was nowhere near the thought of the likelihood of my baggage being destroyed under all of milady's nonsense. Standing just inside the lobby, as I had been ordered, I awaited my mistress with a heavy heart. While my motions were slowed by a sense of shock, my mind whirled. Desperation took control of my will for the second time in those few days, and, knowing my disobedience would probably mean my dismissal, I made my way quickly across the lobby to the concierge, demanding he tell me the whereabouts of a certain Mr. Inuyasha. To impress upon him that I was a member of the elite and had every right to make such a demand, I practiced Lady Yura's signature sneer on him, emphasizing my impatience. The polished concierge actually looked slightly terrified and, after a moment of stuttering in amazement, waved a finger toward the pool.  
The crème de la crème of society never swim before morning tea: this was a basic principle of ignorant principle Lady Yura had impressed upon me. Of course, this meant that Inuyasha would take his dip in the hotel's famed pool just after breakfast, to avoid the points and stares his presence always seemed to draw. I looked a little odd, standing at the edge of the water in a hideous brown duster and travel hat, but to spare me the embarrassment of others seeing my appearance and my purpose, Fate had kept even the cabana boys away from the swimming pool. I was alone, just me and the white form, swimming laps in the cool water.  
Even though my destiny was being decided by the events of but a few minutes, I could not hold my breath in wonder. Water rippled across Inuyasha's toned body as he continued in his exercise. His face was almost completely submerged, but his queue of silver-white hair still snaked its way down his back. His beauty held me transfixed, even as the fear gripped my heart that at any moment, Lady Yura would become aware of my absence and send an unwitting bellboy in search of me.  
Finished with his last lap, Inuyasha emerged from the water on the side of the pool opposite from me. Still unaware of my presence, or teasing me yet again, he gingerly picked up his towel and, after drying his long hair for a few moments, turned to leave, without saying a word.  
"Inuyasha!" I called out, afraid that this foolishness would ruin my chance. Pivoting on his heel, Inuyasha tossed the towel aside, giving me a rather exaggerated look of surprise. Trying to stifle a giggle, I congratulated myself on knowing he would have detected me long before and was playing another of his games with me.  
"Why, Kagome," he began, tossing his towel aside and rushing to embrace me with his wet arms. "What a pleasant surprise!"  
No matter how grave my situation seemed, I couldn't help but laugh aloud as I dodged his falsely amorous onslaught, moving quickly away from Inuyasha and the edge of the pool, to stave off any temptations.  
"Don't even try to soil my traveling ensemble! Lady Yura picked it out with her own hand, because she liked the drab color and rough texture!"  
Stopping in his charade to look at me more closely, Inuyasha's smile faded as he realized the implications of the words "traveling ensemble". At that moment, some very large women in bathing suits began to appear. The morning's tea was finished, and an audience of soulless bathers was about to witness the death of my romantic ideals. Noting my expression, Inuyasha took my hand and urged me to follow him.  
"C'mon, Kagome, obviously we have a lot to discuss alone. The bungalow will give us some privacy."  
The bungalow was little more than some kind of maintenance shed, housing all of the supplies necessary to create the sparkling waters of the hotel pool. My nose crinkled at the pungent odor of chlorine as Inuyasha pushed open the rusty door and urged me to sit on the nearest empty barrel as he took his usual stance, leaning irreverently against the wall. I had fully ended to tell him the contents of my heart while standing, looking him straight in the eyes, unafraid; but as they say, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. My legs shook underneath me, and I realized that I had, once more, in my trepidation, forgone taking any food since the evening before. Easing myself onto the barrel as I was bidden, I took a breath, and my courage failed me. My admission came in a rambling manner, and all I could bring myself to divulge was the events of the morning: the telegram, Lady Yura's command, the steamer leaving within the hour for America, the purloined good-bye.  
Having revealed all in practically one breath, I fell completely silent at the end, too exhausted and too afraid of his response to continue. Realizing I had had my say, Inuyasha turned himself away from me and stared pensively out the window. There was a pregnant pause between us; all I could hear was my own ragged breathing and the distant cries of the large women, splashing in the pool. He remained completely taciturn, which sent the chills of fear once more up my spine. That tiny voice that had plagued me since the moment I met him began another taunting chorus.  
'Oh, well', he will say, 'nice to have met you, have a nice trip!'  
'Poor, pitiful Kagome, all alone again! Say good-bye, dear, you're losing your Inuyasha! But wait, foolish girl, he was never even yours to lose, ne?'  
I balled my hands into fists, making red, crescent indentions in the palms of my hands. With all the inner resolve I had left, I fought back that voice and the overwhelming urge to cry.  
'I will be strong,' I thought, 'when he rejects me, when he casts me once more to that demon, Yura. I will take my destiny with my head held high, as my grandfather taught me. But, gods, if he were to just-'  
"Damn!" cried Inuyasha, striking his fist against the wall, finally shattering the silence. My brow wrinkled in worry; cursing was definitely a poor omen. I held my tongue and, with baited breath, I allowed Inuyasha to continue at his will, neither encouraging him nor begging him to stop.  
Turning slowly to face me, that devilish grin, that spark of humor, returned to his handsome features, relieving a portion of my worry. Hitching his thumbs in the top of his swimmers, Inuyasha cocked his head to the side and said with a laugh.  
"Well, I'll grant this much to your horrible lady: she certainly does know how to make herself a terrible inconvenience, even if it's an unconscious impulse. Feh, nothing's ruined, but this does make everything more complicated, ne?"  
I could not control the confused expression that crept into my eyes and contorted my face. What Inuyasha was saying to me at that moment was certainly not the glowing, romantic embrace I had dreamed of nor the crushing rejection I feared. Noticing my puzzlement, Inuyasha gave a short laugh before he crouched down in front of me. Grabbing me by the shoulders he held me with his gaze and, in a commanding tone, he asked:  
"Marry me tomorrow?" 


	10. Chapter Ten

"The Other Wife" by: E. Marie E-mail: Emw712@aol.com  
  
Author's Note: June 30, 2003: Well, I know I've fallen off the fan fiction bandwagon for the past few weeks, but I'm trying hard to jump back on board! Once more, Life has taken the opportunity to teach me in front of a huge audience that It is unfair. Since I already knew this, I just shrugged and went home, to finish this story! My inner child is in a Zen- like state of calm, and she'll stay that way as long as you keep reading and reviewing! Don't mess up the flow of positive chi!  
  
Disclaimer: The Universe may have a petty vendetta against me, but I have a feeling "the man" isn't checking up on me, to make sure I still include a disclaimer at the beginning of every single chapter. Since even "the man" has to earn money for his anime DVDs somehow, I'll say (needlessly) once more that I don't own Inuyasha!  
  
Chapter Ten: And the World Interferes.  
I had heard my grandfather use on occasion the phrase "out-of-body experience", a complete detachment from the physical world. He had heard that the souls of people at the verge of death would exit the body but linger nearby, as if the soul were a third party, a witness, an impartial observer..  
In the moment the words "marry me" emerged from Inuyasha's lips and entered my ears, my spirit seemed to be pulled from my body by an unimaginable force. Floating against the thatched ceiling of the mildewing bungalow, I felt like laughing, looking at the puzzled countenance of the young girl below. Her body slumped in shock, her aged travel clothes being slowly ruined by the rusty barrel on which she was perched.she was completely unaware that a handsome, wonderful young man was holding her up by her arms, the residue of an answered question lingering on his lips.  
'Move, moron!' cried my subconscious mind. 'Isn't this what you've been waiting for? Do something! Smile! Cry! Or, do what you've wanted to do since the moment you first met him: claim those lips as yours! Move, before it's too late!'  
While my mind whirled and my body remained frozen, the light faded from Inuyasha's golden eyes and was swiftly replaced by a tinge of red. There was no humor in his face as he released my arms and he rose, turning away from me. Without the support of his strong arms, my body lurched forward, and my conscious mind fell back into my empty form below, just in time to save me from falling face first to the floor. Fear gripped my heart, but all I could do was weakly call out his name. At least that was enough to stop him from leaving the bungalow, and perhaps my life, forever. Standing with his back to me, I saw his muscles flex, drawing taunt, like a wild animal, awaiting an attack.  
'By the gods', I thought, clutching my chest. 'Is this even real?'  
Standing behind him, I reached a shaking hand toward him, toward that lean, silvery form, the long-awaited moment that I made my full confession looming before my blurred eyes. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, waves of furious energy flowing about his body. As he whirled to face me, knocking my hand aside, I closed my eyes and let the tears flow.  
'It was only a joke.he was asking as a folly, that's all.he's infuriated that I could have believed him to be sincere.how ridiculous am I.'  
I balled my hands into tiny fists at my side, refusing to open my eyes, so great was my fear that the sight of him leaving me would destroy me. This man was my last hope, my one chance at salvation from a degrading existence, and the connection I felt with him.my destiny.how could I have been so wrong?  
After several moments of standing as such, waiting for the bungalow door to slam with the resonance and finality as a volley from a firing squad, the silence in the room was maddening. The offensive odor of chlorine overrode my sense of smell, and Inuyasha's distinct scent, an intoxicating mixture of earth and fresh rain, began to dissipate. Afraid that he had left without my hearing, had vanished in my moment of trepidation and fear, I opened my eyes and was caught by his empty golden gaze. He had remained, even through my silence.and the red gleam had been replaced by something I feared quite more: a lurking sadness.  
"Ka-go-me." he growled my name in a low voice, the syllables catching in his throat. Once more the master of my own senses, I tried to speak, but to silence me, he once more drove his fist into the wall. His fury may have died away, but his temper remained. Unwilling to be intimidated, I faced him defiantly, hands on my hips, allowing him to continue.  
'This stubborn dog is going to hear my answer, and if he is only toying with my emotions, then let him feel MY anger1' I thought, feeling my characteristic fire rise within me once more.  
Collecting himself, fighting that red gleam in that had arisen once more in his eyes, Inuyasha continued.  
"Feh, don't try and spare my feelings. You wouldn't be the first to think a bastard son to be unworthy."  
Here is words stopped, and my answer began. In that moment I realized Inuyasha feared my rejection, I threw my arms about him, pressing my small form tightly against his tall, wet frame. I knew the crystal pool water lingering on his skin would be more than enough to do in the hideous fabric of my duster, but my heart sang that I would not be traveling anywhere with Lady Yura that day or ere more.  
"Yes", I murmured against his skin, enjoying the feel of his strong body in such intimate contact. Looking up, I saw his ears twitch. Courage building within me, I took his chin in my hand and drew his face down to fine, until I was gazing deep within his golden orbs.  
"Yes", I said once more, my voice strong with my love, as I boldly closed the distance between us with a kiss. Taken aback by the suddenness of my action, Inuyasha hesitated for a moment before a feral growl rolled from his body to mine. His powerful arms were about me, crushing me tightly to his chest, and his lips took full possession of my own.  
  
Closing Note: Sorry that was a rather brief chapter, but I felt it best to continue in another chapter, to be posted sooner than you might think! "Read and review!" commands my inner child once more. Please feel compelled to obey. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

"The Other Wife" by: E. Marie E-mail: Emw712@aol.com  
  
Author's Note: July 1, 2003: My thanks to everyone who sent me reassurances that "Inuyasha" is not (truly) being unceremoniously being yanked from the Adult Swim line-up; though waiting until August will be an arduous endeavor, watching new episodes would be like finding the Holy Grail as the prize in your cereal box.  
My inner child would offer thanks to the faithful reviewers for all the "soul food", but she is napping contentedly, giving me, once more, the attention span to create! Keep reading! Keep writing! The tantrums of an inner child are not pretty!  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own a Volkswagen Beetle. What would make people think I owned Inuyasha? Do I look insanely rich? Do I look deliriously happy? Well, I do look happy, but that's only because I'm writing and my inner child is at peace. Oh, well, no, I cannot claim Inuyasha as my own- *sigh*. Disclaimers are very depressing!  
  
Chapter Eleven: For Every Action.  
The kiss began almost as an act of desperation, an unconscious bid from my mind to my body to give Inuyasha the proper answer to his proposal. I had never kissed a man before; all I knew of love came from French novelettes and my early remembrances of my parents, holding hands and kissing affectionately every morning over toast. In that moment, I just acted upon a basic impulse, a feeble instinct, perhaps, to show this man and reassure myself of my love for him.  
I knew he was shocked at first. I was being very forward, breaking every rule of proper decorum, and for a brief instant, my mind implored me to pull away, to end this act of impropriety.but then Inuyasha responded with instincts of his own, darker and more primal than my own romantic guise. At first, when I felt that deep growl resonate within him, when his strong arms closed around me and drew me tight against his chest, I felt a pang of fear.but an even more overwhelming wave of excitement. When Inuyasha licked at my lips, his tongue asking for entrance, I gave away to his desires, willing in my passion to let him taste all of me in that moment and cast me aside the next. My own reason melted as he began trailing his kisses down my neck, his hands ripping the fabric of my aging duster aside, revealing the full column of my neck and the juncture of my shoulder.  
"Kagome." Inuyasha murmured my name as his teeth grazed my pulse point. I let out a gasp, sure that I would die in that moment from sheer ecstasy, when another voice, certainly less seductive, bellowed my name somewhere in the world outside the bungalow. Sitting upright, I looked about, confused, for I had forgotten for the past few moments that anyone other than Inuyasha and I existed. Trying to ignore the sound, I turned back to Inuyasha-  
'My Inuyasha', echoed my mind, trying the feel of the words to be very agreeable.  
Unfortunately, the voice and its sheer decibels would not allow us to forget the obligations before us, and though Inuyasha looked somewhat homicidal, I eased myself away from him to straighten my countenance as much as possible. With a sigh, I realized I would not be able to leave the bungalow with my dignity in store. I was certain my hair and my travel cap were in complete disarray. I had been on the verge of tears before, but luckily for me, make-up was a commodity I could ill-afford, so there was no damage to my face, save for my lips, swollen from kissing.but my clothing.that was another matter entirely. Covering myself as best I could, I turned to leave the bungalow, my seedy paradise, to answer another, less appealing question.  
After placing a hand reassuring on Inuyasha's chest, just over his heart, I turned to leave, when he seized my hand and holding it fast, pulled me back to face him.  
"You ain't facing her alone, you know," he growled, bearing his teeth slightly, to show me that there was no room for argument.  
My eyes narrowed. I was not about to let him think that a few kisses had made me a helpless fool. Opening my mouth to begin my protest of independence in this matter, Inuyasha pulled me completely into his embrace and spoke into my hair:  
"Just shut up and let me protect you!"  
  
Lady Yura was not very pleased with me at that particular moment. From what I gathered later from various hotel employees and local gossip, she had arrived at the car a full twenty minutes after she had planned to leave, and because milady was "completely on time", her servant's disobedience was especially irritating. After offering a rather polite tongue-lashing to the driver, Lady Yura pulled her enormous, fur clad body from the backseat and stormed into the hotel lobby. The concierge cringed when he saw her enter the gilded door and set her puffy eyes upon him. Temper and terror floated thickly through the air.  
In the tacky travel garb milady had so 'graciously' provided me, I had been very conspicuous, and the smoke billowing from Lady Yura's cigar and the flames in her eyes were motivation enough to make the concierge direct her to the pool; even though the poor man was deathly afraid of angering the great Inuyasha, Yura was certainly a more present, pressing danger.  
As Inuyasha and I were just beginning our romantic tryst in the decaying bungalow behind the pool, Lady Yura's stormy gaze scanned the crystal waters and the faces of all the bathers. At this point, a lady of the true upper class, a woman of good breeding, a person with dignity or sensibility, would have returned to the concierge and politely requested a bellhop search the premise for a lost servant. Lady Yura, as a great lady greatly angered by a servant and in preparation to leave the country, would have been completely in her rights to leave my note of dismissal at the front desk, along with the pay that was due me. She could have even left me in silence, without a written note or a bank note to sustain me.  
But milady would not be satisfied with merely turning me out into the world. The prospect of truly embarrassing me in front of an audience add greater fuel to her fire. Seeing the large lady bathers that had driven Inuyasha and I from the pool's edge only added to her boldness, and seizing the opportunity to appear as a "true task mistress", she began to call my name, to summon me for my punishment.  
Answering her summons, I returned her call and stepped forth from the bungalow. In the instant Lady Yura saw the disarray of my hair and the ruin of my clothes, her mouth opened even wider to release verbally all of her fury.but when she saw Inuyasha take my hand and follow me out into the sunlight, her jaw nearly became unhinged from her face, so great was her shock.  
The laughing women in the pool silenced their prattle and scrambled to the steps at the edge of the pool. Heaving their large, white forms from those pristine waters, they stood a safe distance behind Lady Yura, to support their compatriot and to catch every detail of what was sure to be enough gossip to last a month over tea and a game of bridge.  
Knowing that she had a captive, sympathetic audience at her back, Lady Yura's dumb-founded expression slowly creased itself into a wicked smirk, hatred for both Inuyasha and myself steaming in her black eyes. With a reassuring squeeze of his hand, I implored Inuyasha quietly to stand back. Reluctantly, he released my hand and I moved to stand before my employer. Drawing a deep breath, I began the first words of my resignation when milady drew back her hand-and I was struck in the face, for the first time in my life. Reeling from the surprise attack, I stumbled back a few steps. Inuyasha drew in his breath in a furious hiss, but I stilled him with a small wave of my hand. I would deal with this bitch in my own fashion.  
"Slut!" cried milady, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that the elitist bathers still remained behind her. Gaining confidence from her eager audience, she continued her tirade.  
"How dare you betray me! Disobey my orders! I'd say that during all that time, when I was practically at death's door, you were nowhere near the archery range! You, benevolent whore! I should have left you to rot after your grandfather keeled over-the wretched man didn't even have the decency to finish my portrait before he died.and now you seek to draw yourself up in this world by whoring yourself to this, this bastard!"  
Gathering my resolve, my pain from all those years of verbal abuse, I moved quickly toward the lady, Yura. Standing less than a foot from her person, my posture was erect, and I looked down on her, unimpassioned. Shocked and, perhaps, afraid of how I might repay her for her previous kindness, milady grew silent.  
I formed my words calmly, shaping each syllable well, for this was the moment I had been waiting for since my grandfather first introduced me to this pale, stinking lump of flesh.  
"I seem to recall, milady, a string of gossip that circulated the entire country and all levels of society over thirty years ago, a sordid tale that is still repeated today.about a boorish, overbearing young woman from an old family that had fallen from grace. She was already swollen with child when she married her lord, and after developing a taste for cigars and world-trotting, quietly introduced a certain powder to his drink that ended his life...now, mind you, that last part is still speculation, but it seems a certain "traveling companion" of this now aged and decaying "society lady" happened upon a journal, (full of all sorts of spelling errors, mind you) that would serve as a complete and full confession.."  
Milady's red-rimmed eyes widened with fear.fear of me and what I could do to her. I had found happened upon her journal in preparing for our journey to Monte Carlo.but the prospect of revealing Yura to the world and being alone terrified me. But with my Inuyasha behind me, I was stronger than ever before.  
Stepping past the stammering Yura, I pulled back my arm and, with all my strength, pushed milady head first, in all her jewels, fur and finery, into the waters of the pool. As Yura broke the surface of the water, spluttering and cursing, Inuyasha picked up a fur wrapper she had dropped and tossed it into the pool, to be ruined with its brethren. As Lady Yura's audience of boisterous ladies dove to her aid, he took my hand and led me into the hotel lobby, calling over his shoulder with a laugh:  
"And no, you aren't invited to the wedding, you stupid bitch!" 


	12. Chapter Twelve

"The Other Wife" by: E. Marie E-mail: Emw712@aol.com  
  
Author's Note: July 5, 2003: Usually, I try and keep the "Author's Note" pretty light-hearted, but this chapter calls for a little forewarning. I know I promised to write like a madwoman once I got back from that insane two week vacation, but this particular chapter.. Just so you know before- hand: I refuse to change my writing style to accommodate the desires of any other individual. Please take my writing for what it is-my chosen form of expression. If you want unadulterated, blistering, writhing smut, you've come to the wrong author. All the same, I made sure my inner child was sound asleep before I wrote this chapter.just to be safe. Remember, this whole story is rated R because I hoped to attract readers of a more mature, not necessarily perverted, mindset. Enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: Wow, that was a long "Author's Note"! Thus, I'll keep this short and grammatically incorrect: me no own Inuyasha.  
  
Chapter Twelve: An Equal and Opposite Reaction  
How that morning of my liberation, my joy, slipped away into my marriage, I can't remember. You may find this surprising, but I had been waiting for so long, for something to arrive, to save me from myself.and in the course of an hour, my dream had come true. I didn't know how to handle so much happiness at once, and everything about me took on the blurry image of some fantasy.  
As a testament to the power of Inuyasha's name (and perhaps the lingering fear the servants held for Lady Yura) my travel chest 'magically' appeared in Inuyasha's suite, without a single request being filed. I spent the night in Inuyasha's bed, while he took the smaller chaise lounge. The separate sleeping arrangements were supposed to be somehow more fitting with proper decorum-and to eliminate earlier temptations. However, the very sheets had caught Inuyasha's wild scent, and I could not find the harbor of sleep. My as-of-lately fiancé, however, tumbled headlong into sleep the moment he laid his head against the back of the tiny couch, and I had to fight back laughter at the sight of his large frame curled so tightly on the chaise lounge, how at ease he seemed.  
Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, claimed me in the earlier hours of the morning, and I woke to the sounds of Inuyasha whistling in the shower. Feigning sleep, I watched through fluttered eyelashes as he emerged from the adjacent bathroom, a towel draped across his torso, his chiseled features, covered with the warm droplets of water from his shower made my heart beat faster, and I rolled my body away from the sight, afraid of discovery.  
In a few moments, however, the covers were unceremoniously yanked off my 'sleeping' form, and a very wet, barely clothed Inuyasha was hovering over me. I groaned as a deep blush spread across my features. Expecting him to somehow chastise me for my peeping tom act, I was surprised to find that Inuyasha had drawn me a bath, and to my greater surprise, he didn't even threaten me to be quick!  
Inuyasha chose my wedding dress for me, and because our wedding was to be impromptu and without the usual pomp and circumstance, he had to choose from my existing wardrobe. He selected the dress I wore on one of our first outings together-the dress that had reminded me so much of a schoolgirl's uniform. With a pointed glare in Inuyasha's direction, I shooed him into the study, to give me privacy as I changed. I could hear his laughter through the door at my poor attempt to punish him for choosing such a horrid dress. I couldn't help but smile.  
By midday, we were well on the road to a small village on the outskirts of Monte Carlo, where Inuyasha knew a priest willing to perform a wedding ceremony on literally no notice. My heart felt as though it were about to burst within my chest, and I could not help but to reach over the gear shift and take Inuyasha's free hand in my own, to assure myself he was real, and that my happiness wasn't just some mass delusion.  
The poor padre spoke only French, so in actuality, I understood very little of the words spoken during the ceremony. However, so ancient a ritual is familiar to almost anyone, and looking into Inuyasha's eyes, I could have sworn away my very existence at that moment to be known as his wife. The visage of his first wife, that faceless phantom that had, on occasion haunted my thoughts and even my dreams, flashed before my eyes for but a moment, but I pushed the thought aside.  
That little voice that had plagued me since the moment I met Inuyasha chanted quietly:  
"His other wife.his other wife.you are only the second; his love goes first to another-"  
But the volley was drowned out by two simple words from my beloved's lips:  
"I do."  
  
With the conclusion of the marriage ceremony and our first kiss as man and wife, Inuyasha and I were ushered out the chapel door by the padre and a few plebeians who had served as witnesses. Before they could even begin to pelt us with rice and their good wishes, the heavens opened up and rain poured down on us in torrents. Drawing me close to his drenched form with a strong arm, Inuyasha removed his outer jacket and tried to shelter me from the rain, as we ran to a nearby inn, seeking shelter from the storm and the darkness of the night.  
  
The inn was a striking contrast to the resorts of Monte Carlo. Crumbling plaster, peeling wallpaper, aging curtains greeted Inuyasha and I as he threw open the door to the room that would serve as our honeymoon suite. Scooping me up in his arms, he carried me over the threshold, tripped over a loose tile in the floor, and sent us both sprawling on the bed, penning me with his weight.  
"At least the bed is made," he mumbled into my hair, sending me into fits of laughter, which only grew louder as the electricity failed from the sheer power of the storm. Pushing himself off of me, Inuyasha strode to the enormous window that was the sole feature of the bare wall, and throwing back the curtains and the glass pane, let the wind and the rain bathe his form. Lightning crashed in the distance, and for a moment, the room was illuminated just enough for me to catch the desire that lingered in his amber eyes. The smell of the wild roses growing on the window terrace mixed with the scent of wind and his own wild essence, and as I took his hands in mine, drawing him to myself, I imprinted that moment when the wind swept in into my memory.  
  
His tongue traced intricate designs on my flesh; his teeth left their mark on my neck. Inuyasha was the first man to touch me, and I swore an oath in that moment that no matter what the gods held for our future, he would be the only man who would know me in this way.  
As Inuyasha tore the ties of my dress, I could see once more that dark, animal instinct glow in every feature of his face, and for a brief moment, I was afraid.but when his tongue began another passionate assault of my mouth once more, I could feel a burning desire rising within my own veins. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to offer all of myself that he wished to take, to impress on my memory every crevice, every scar of his body.  
I could feel his length hard against my thigh, and I remembered the whisperings of maids, the talk of the pain of every bride on her first night.  
Sensing my apprehension, Inuyasha took my breath and my fear away with another sweltering kiss. Reaching my arms up around his broad back, I pulled him toward me, murmuring my consent against his lips, a silent prayer ringing in my heart that I be able to bring him children someday.  
After the waves of pain came indescribable pleasure, and after crying his name, stars burst before my very eyes, and I was lost to the world. As Inuyasha collapsed above me but before darkness claimed me, I could hear him say into my ear at last-  
"I love you, Kagome." 


End file.
